You've Got a Friend
by LisaDouglas
Summary: The Howells best friends, the Douglas of New York, arrive on the island. Written by Juliefan1 and LisaDouglas.
1. Chapter 1

Eunice Douglas sat in the back of the boat, a small coast guard boat no less, wondering exactly what had become of her. A Douglas on the back of a coast guard boat? It wasn't even a coast guard cutter...no one in her family would usually ride anything less than a 40 foot yacht and her friend Lovey Howell would be totally scandalized. But that was what brought her there in the first place, wasn't it...that Lovey and Thurston had snapped, boarded a small sailing vessel called the S.S. Minnow and not been heard from since.

Eunice had worried about what the Howells might have been doing on a boat like that, had then been kidnapped? Why would they go with such, such commoners? Had they been able to bring adequate luggage with them? Eunice had heard that they'd brought three or four trunks on the boat with them, that would be suitable for three or four hours but certainly no longer than that! As a result she was worried. She knew her friends were in dire need. That was why she and her ex-husband Horace, whom she hadn't spoken to in well over twenty years, had decided to spare no expense in finding their very old and dear friends, the Howells. They'd agreed to set sail together in the general area where the Minnow had been lost, but they'd never agreed on the thing Horace brought with him...Blanche: the second wife.

Blanche was smiling sweetly at her beloved, Horace. She didn't understand why she had to be on a boat with _Her_, Eunice that was. Wherever Horace went, though she followed. She was his Yellow Rose of Texas, with her beautiful blond curls She had been happily married for years without seeing Eunice and now she had to be on a boat with her!

"So do you think we'll actually find your friends, honey?"

Eunice rolled her eyes. Why did this home wrecker have to be on the boat with them? Her slow Texas drawl was the kind of voice Lovey would describe only as a "dreadful bore." Eunice looked around frightened, she could practically hear Lovey say that. Then she just realized she was being silly...she didn't know for sure that Lovey was a ghost.

"Horace, did Thurston tell you why he was planning on going on such a dreadful ship" Asked Eunice.

"No, maybe it was a pirate ship?", joked Horace.

"Very funny Horace, I'll never forget the time you thought you were a pirate! We were on Thurston's yacht after our sophomore year of college...

Off the shore of Cape Cod: June 1929

"What can you do w/ a French Major and Psychology Minor? Psychoanalyze all you French friends? Or will you be Psychoanalyzing Thurston and Horace forever?" Eunice asked critically.

The four were spending the day on Thurston's personal yacht, which he'd received as a gift when he'd entered prep school.

"Oh Eunice! You're really one to, to..."

"Talk, my dear!" Thurston called from the other side of the boat. He raised his glass to her, already half way drunk. "Cheers!" He promptly took a drink and fell over in his deck chair. Lovey waved a hand in dismissal and turned back to Eunice.

"Eunice, you're really one to talk my dear...and English degree, what on earth are you going to do with that? Write romantic novels about summers in South Hampton?" Lovey scoffed.

"Well I'd never be an author Lovey! I will host book clubs and have intelligent conversations about literature. Good heavens, Thurston is beginning to get very drunk!" Eunice was also very concerned for Horace who had also collapsed in his chair.

"Oh let him, he'll get over it. Thurston! Thurston! Get up darling." Her tone was half angry and part soothing. She helped him up off the deck where he'd been ranting about his GM stock for the past several seconds. "Come along darling, I'm going to put you in the sitting room where you'll have a nice rest...and chef will get you anything you like?"

"Can I have a hot chocolate, Lovey?"

"Yes dear." She practically baby-talked to him.

"With marshmellows?"

"Yes you big brave.." She continued baby-talking and Eunice stopped listening when Horace, also drunk, stumbled over to her seat.

"Hey Eunice baby!" He gasped as he approached her. Horace burst into a loud laugh, the smell of alcohol immediately invaded Eunice's senses and she was a little bit disgusted, but decided to follow Lovey's cue.

"Hello Horace, are you alright?"

"Never better babe!" He enthusiastically wrapped his arm around her, holding her close with one hand and holding his beer bottle with the other. He turned around to face the view of Cape Cod behind them, with the gentle baby blue waves crashing against the rocks. "Isn't it a beautiful country? Some...someday Eunice, I'd like to have land." He coughed.

"Land?" Eunice was petrified. She'd always dreamed of having land yes...but city land and lots of it!

"Someday, I'd like to buy a farm."

"A farm!" She was horrified...what would she do if this ever got out?

"Yes, and get away from the rat race of the city."

"You see, that's just what I love about the city!" Thurston barked as he and Lovey came back out to the sitting area. Lovey'd gotten him coffee, hot chocolate...with marshmallows, his favorite deck shoes and of course: teddy. "There's a rat every few feet...and I'm the biggest one of them."

"Thurston, does this mean you're the rat king?" Lovey considered.

"Whatever is a rat king my dear?" Thurston asked, taking a sip of his marshmallow-filled hot chocolate. Lovey leaned over and whispered something to him.

"Of course not Lovey! I'm no rat king! I'm the wolf of Wall Street! Where's my ticker-tape machine?"

"Oh Thurston, we're on vacation! Enjoy yourself for five minutes." Horace scolded.

"I do enjoy myself! Watching the stock market is the most enjoyable thing to do in the world!" Exclaimed Thurston.

"The most enjoyable thing to do? What about us, dear? Isn't being with me enjoyable?" Asked Lovey.

"Well yes but..."

"But...Thurston if we're going to get married."

"You're getting married!" Eunice squealed, she was delighted. She took this opportunity to subtally hit her drunk boyfriend on the arm, just to give him a hint. She would like to get married too. He choked on his drink, stopped and raised it to the couple in the form of a toast.

"Lovey see what you have people thinking!"

"Thurston, you know very well what I met. If we were to get married: the minister would ask for richer or for poorer..."

"For poorer Lovey how vulgar!"

"So you aren't getting married?"Asked a rather confused Eunice, who thought she was almost never confused. She thought she sounded like Lovey, asking a question like that.

"N-not right now." Lovey began, she seemed uncomfortable to Eunice and moved around uneasily in her seat, finally settling on snuggling up to Thurston.

"Yes, not now you see we have things to do first."

"A little bit of living!" Lovey explained.

Eunice thought this was strange. Living! Ha, wasn't marriage living? She was always taught from an early age that a young lady must find a husband as soon as possible.

"Why are you saying you don't want to get married right away? Is it because your parents don't like Thurston? Are you worried about that? I was just reading this book by Louisa May Alcott where the character doesn't marry until she is in her thirties. You won't wait that long, will you?"

"Well, Eunice, it's just that, Thurston and I have a lot we want to do."

"Yes, the world is full of possibilities!" Thurston added as he took another sip of his drink. "And we just want to explore a little bit before we settle down, although we've decided on settling down with each other."

"Oh my darling, you're so modern!" Lovey squealed, rubbing her nose against Thurston's.

"Oh that is modern! My goodness I don't...I mean I've never heard of a young lady in the Social Register do such a thing!" Eunice tried to act interested, although the real sentiment was shocked.

"It's going to be all the rage!" Lovey insisted, tossing her left hand flirtatiously.

"Oh really?" asked a skeptical Eunice.

"Yes, really...the two of you really must try it!" Thurston insisted. He, by this time, had put down his hot chocolate and picked up his...more adult drink again. He took another drink.

"On the other hand..." Lovey began. "When it happens it will be the wedding of the decade...it is a Wentworth wedding after all!" Lovey squealed.

"A Wentworth-Howell wedding my dear."

"Oh of course Wentworth-Howell!...Come along Eunice, you must come and look at china patterns with me!" Lovey leaned over and grabbed her friend's hand as she got up.

"N-now, you have china patterns now?"

"Of course, the wedding of the decade has to be planned years in advance you know." Lovey laughed.

Horace smiled when the women left. Thurston, who'd sobered up quite a bit, could tell that Horace was very, very off the deep end drunk now. He knew that look on his face and wondered exactly what kind of crazy scheme he was about to propose.

"What?" Thurston asked simply. It was almost more of a statement or an expectation than a question at this point.

"A toast! To the bride-groom!" Horace tried, he'd slurred his words quite a bit but Thurston could make it out.

"I'll drink to that...I guess." Thurston agreed.

"Now another toast...to on guard!" Horace commanded angrily, standing up and drawing his fencing sword. Thurston Howell III raised an eyebrow.

"Horace have you gone mad?"

"On guard!" He pressed, poking into Thurston's chest with the tip of the fencing sword.

"Ha fine. Sword please." He called. In an instant someone tossed Thurston his own fencing sword. He caught it without turning, pausing or batting a single eyelash.

"Buccanneers, it's a mutiny At sea! I won't stand for it!"

"Oh really...would you sit for it?" Thurston asked...he didn't really want to fight.

"On guard!" This time Horace charged, beginning to chase Thurston.

"Oh really Horace! Buccanneers...oh how vulgar!"

"Oh guard you cowardly swine!"

"A Howell a coward, never!" Thurston retorted. He was challenged now and really ready to fight. A nearby butler who stood at attention, watching this spectacle found it laughable and just painfully ironic that Thurston didn't challenge the assertion that Howells were in fact, swine.

"You sir on guard!" Thurston called, using his sword to strike his friend.

Thurston and Horace continued their duel around the dock of the boat, battling each other back and forth, almost in a circle-like dance. Every now and then, Horace would stop to take yet another sip of alcohol and challenged Thurston to do the same.

"What are you a coward? Real men and real muntinees for that matter, drink!" Horace, with almost a crazy look in his eye, raised his glass and then leaned his head back and began to chug the drink he held. At that moment their girlfriends emerged from the lower deck of the boat. Eunice was immediately scandalized by her suitor's very...unproper way of consuming the beverege. She wondered if this is what happened at frat parties. Where had he learned to drink like some bum in a pub?

"Oh dear what are they up to?" Lovey asked, feeling that she had to say something only because saying nothing would be worse.

Eunice couldn't believe that Lovey could be so casual about the whole ordeal. Thurston and Horace were acting like barbarians, well at least Horace was. She hoped Thurston didn't approve of such behavior.

Thurston had to ask himself wheter or not Horace was for real, was he faking being this drunk, just to have some fun, maybe get himself out of his impending wedded bliss? Thurston thought so. Suddenly a _tick-tick-tick_ noise came floating to both men's ears. It was a soothing sound that made all the rest of the world stop and brought the hum of Wall Street floating into Thurston's coinscience...very suddenly he felt at home.

"Mr. Howell! Mr. Howell! Hey wake up Mr. Howell!"

"Er, er! Horace shut up with the on guard, don't you hear, the stock ticker is humming again!"

"No Mr. Howell that's not the stock ticker, just the mosquitos on the radio!"

"Gilligan you've...Gilligan!" Mr. Howell exclaimed, sitting up straight in his chaise. "Giligan you've ruined everything!" Gilligan shook at the captain of industry's thundering accusation.

"S-ssorry Mr. Howell I...get out of here!" He commanded as the boy picked up his radio and ran. Of course he dropped it again on the way out the the "private" country club the Howells had constructed for themselves, but he didn't bother to pick it up, he just kept on running when he heard the Skipper call for his aid on another part of the island...even on land the work of a first mate was never done...

"Thurston!" His wife's sweet voice scolded. "Why'd you do that to that poor boy?"

Lovey had been picking flowers for their hut and looked, on that particular morning, as radiant to him as she had many years before...like she did in the dream he'd just had.

"Well, he just wrecked the most beautiful dream." Thurston said, extending his hand to her and pulling her down to sit next to him on the arm of the chaise.

"What dream Thurston?" She sat by his side as he wrapped his arm around your hip.

"Well, you..." He began.

"Awe, you're so sweet!" She gushed. "But then you walked up and brought that part back...and then there was Horace Douglas."

"Thurston if you've been dreaming about Horace Douglas...do you have something to tell me!"

"No, no Lovey that...I was just thinking about that time we went out on my yacht."

"Which yacht Thurston the one with the dancing girls and the television executives or the one you got for prep school?"

"This was a long time ago dear, I'm speaking of the prep school one. Remember that time that Horace challenged me to a duel?"

"Oh yes, and you were both disgracefully drunk."

"And all my stocks made a new high that day!" He chucked. Lovey also appreciated being reminded of a sweet, fun day in her youth and leaned down to kiss her husband. He considered indulging in this also but they stopped when they heard the radio announcer say the S.S. Minnow.

"Lovey...did he just say the Minnow?" Thurston raised an eyebrow.

"That's right the Minnow!" The announcer called. "Eunice and Horace Douglas of New York, Boston and Texas, a prominent divorced couple and friend to millionaire Thurston Howell III and his socialite wife, Lovey Howell have launched a new expedition in the South Pacific in search for their friends."

"Ahhahah!" The Howells jumped up and squealed with joy. The couple quickly composed themselves...such an outburst was so un-Howell like.

"Come on Lovey was must tell the others!" Thurston grabbed her hand and began running back to camp with his wife in tow.


	2. Chapter 2

The Howells quickly made their way back to the encampment. They could smell Mary Ann making a coconut cream pie as they neared their makeshift little neighborhood and the sent compelled them to run even faster. A Howell running for food and to carry news, what were they, Marathon?...Thurston never thought he'd see the day! Meanwhile Lovey thought the souls of her Neiman Marcus flats were about to cave in, or maybe sink into the sand with each step, but nonetheless their excitement carried them forward and back to camp.

Lovey couldn't wait to tell the other castaways the news about Eunice and Horace. She wished however, that Horace was not coming. Poor Eunice, spending time with that selfish, self-centered, irresponsible drunk! And if Blanche was with them, she must really be suffering. Blanche was a self-centered, selfish young woman, who Lovey detested greatly. She loved to party as much as her husband and loved the way he spoiled her and showered her with expensive gifts. It was tasteless.

"Skipper, Professor!" Lovey called.

"Ginger, Mary Ann!" Thurston added.

"Gilligan!" They called in urgent unison.

"What is it Mr. and Mrs. Howell?" The Skipper rushed into the camp, ax in hand. He'd been in the process of chopping down a tree. He and Gilligan had hoped to make a new recreation hut so they'd all have somewhere dry to dine, cook, play board games and socialize during the coming monsoon months.

"Our friends are coming!"

"They're what?" The sailor was worried that the millionaires were beginning to lose their minds. "Here?"

"We just heard it on the radio!" Lovey explained cheerfully.

"Oh!" He burst. "We're going to be rescued!" The Skipper hollered. His cheery voice carried and rambled about the island, through trees, clearings and huts.

"Rescued?" Mary Ann and Ginger looked at each other, taking their eyes off of what they were cooking.

"Rescued?" The Professor questioned, dropping a boiling hot test tube on the ground.

"Rescued?" Gilligan exclaimed. He was in the jungle trying to catch a butterfly. The news shocked him so much that he lost his balance and fell into the waterfall.

Soon everyone was gathered around the dining table urgently awaiting the Howell's full story about their imminent rescue.

"You see, they're our oldest and dearest friends!" Lovey gushed.

"Yes, the Douglas' you see." Thurston clarified. The Professor thought it was funny that Mr. Howell acted like they should all automatically know whom he was speaking of.

"There were some Douglas' who lived by my farm back home." Mary Ann said sweetly. Gilligan noticed, her deep chocolate eyes glisten as the sun began its descent over the Pacific.

"How long have you known em?" Gilligan asked as he bit into another banana. He was still soaking wet from falling into the water and held his blanket tightly around his shoulders. The Skipper found it funny that he hadn't bothered to remove his soaking wet white sailor's hat.

"Oh for ages and ages!" Mrs. Howell stopped herself mid comment, realizing she didn't really want to admit she'd been at college so long ago.

"Since college." Mr. Howell finished.

"Yes." Lovey agreed, batting her eyelashes and realizing she could continue the conversation with grace. "You see, I met Eunice when we were sophomores in college. Thurston and Horace were dear friends at Harvard and Eunice was attending Radcliffe College, near Harvard. I came to visit Thurston one weekend. It was quite an eventful and simply marvelous weekend!"

"Well it didn't start out that way." Thurston chuckled. "I can just see it now!" He began. Gilligan could see everything get all blurry all of a sudden and new a story was imminent. He loved stories!

Eunice Smith had just got out of her last class for the week at Radcliffe College. The college was basically a Harvard for women and located very close to Harvard's campus. She was a sophomore and an English Major. She was surprised to see her boyfriend Horace Douglas, a Harvard student, waiting for her outside her classroom.

"Hello, I didn't expect to see you here. Is there something you wanted to tell me?" asked Eunice, as she began to walk with Horace to her dorm.

"Yeah, Thurston's girlfriend is coming down from Vassar in about an hour. I said we'd go out to dinner where we always go", said Horace.

"Who is his girlfriend?" asked Eunice.

"Well she's Eunice too...but everyone calls her Lovey, Eunice Wentworth," replied Horace.

"Oh no! Horace why didn't you remember to tell me earlier? I can't meet her! If mother found out she'd kill me!" exclaimed Eunice. Horace thought he saw his girlfriend begin to shake slightly.

"Eunice calm down! What's wrong with Lovey?" Horace raised an eyebrow.

"If she's anything like her mother, she's a monster! That woman is a narrow-minded bigot who thinks that my mother's family is the scum of the earth, and likes to remind everyone of it! Just because our ancestors lived in Ireland lording over those Irish peasants! Then she always reminds my mother she is not eligible for the DAR. Our mothers are enemies and I've been forbidden to ever speak to Lovey," said Eunice.

"That woman does sound like a monster, but you don't even know Lovey. With a nickname like that, she may not be a monster", said Horace. In fact, I'd call her a sweet blonde dingbat, Horace, having met Lovey just once before, said to himself.

"Well I'll go to meet her, but if she says anything cruel, I won't put up with it! Oh Horace you have no idea how much I've..."

"Yes, Eunice I know, I have no idea how much you've suffered."

"Horace I'm sure we will argue all night, I'm sure!... Could you stay here until I put my satchel away?" said Eunice who was now outside her dorm.

"Sure, Honey", said Horace, giving Eunice a quick kiss on the cheek.

A few minutes later Thurston's driver was parking the car in Harvard Yard. The young millionaire stood waiting patiently for the car to come to a complete stop, the back passenger's side door aligned perfectly with his step. Thurston Howell III reached out in nervous anticipation, to grab the elegant white-gloved hand of his beloved. Would she notice that he was perspiring and tingling all over? It was like bola-bola fever, he was about to burst into hives!...in actuality it was just seeing Lovey: after being together for years, her presence, especially at first, still made him nervous. She kissed his cheek softly in greeting and gave him a warm but proper sort of hug. He gulped, feeling his heart began to pound again.

"Hello Lovey."

"Oh Thurston my darling! It's so wonderful to see you." She squealed, taking his arm when he offered it. Before she knew it they'd began their traditional stroll around the campus and soon abandoned the chauffeur and the valet and were walking amidst other students playing Frisbee on the lawn, studying, and even having a romantic interlude.

Thurston was shocked when Lovey pulled him behind a tree and kissed him deeply...and on the lips. That was the first time she'd done that. He didn't know what to say or do and could scarcely breathe. She smiled tenderly, holding a single finger up to her lips, warning him to be quiet: he loved when she flirted with him.

"Mummy warned me about you Vassar girls and your kissing."

"Shu, Thurston." She teased, running her fingers up his chest teasingly and kissing him again. "I've missed you." She finished, answering his unspoken question about why she was suddenly acting so forward.

"Oh me too Lovey." He held her gloved hands in his own, relishing her touch and the whimsical sent of her perfume.

"I, I um..." She started.

She had something she wanted to ask about. She wasn't exactly a Gibson girl, but she wasn't a Victorian lady in a gilded cage either. She knew what her mother would say about what was on her mind, but she had no idea what was proper for her to articulate to him...but was he _ever_ going to ask. Was he _**ever**_ going to make a move? Or would she have to be the one sneaking behind trees for the rest of their relationship.

"What is it Lovey?"

"Well Thurston, I...I uh. I don't want to be so forward." She giggled pleasantly, wishing there were just about anything else she could turn her attention to.

"Forward...Lovey how could you possibly be any more forward than you just were?" He wished he wouldn't have asked that: the next step went well beyond boundaries they should ever breach prior to saying their vows and bordered on the animalistic: on the other hand, he as a man, and she as his love...he couldn't resist thinking about it...just a little.

"Thurston." She began. Her big blue eyes looked up sweetly into his, not lustfully as they had a few moments prior. Without warning Lovey froze. Lovey just stood there wordless and breathless almost like a stage actor who'd just blanked at the height of delivering the most important soliloquy of the evening. Realizing she was staring off into space a bit, Lovey quickly collected herself. "What are we doing this evening darling?" She asked, figuring that if she couldn't expect a marriage proposal, she might at least get a cultured evening in Boston...maybe, hopefully at the ballet.

"Well Lovey, that's the surprise. I was hoping you'd come to dinner with one of my closest friends, who you've met before, Horace and his lovely girlfriend...I think you'll get along smashingly well."

"Oh Thurston that's splendid! It sounds like such fun. Now who is she?" She burst.

"Ms. Eunice Smith."

"Ha Thurston! Smith! You know what mother says about them!" Lovey became obstinate within seconds and turned her back on him crossing her arms.

"No, no...I don't." He trailed off. Lovey's mother had so many rules and biases, it was just too much. "But you know what she thinks of me Lovey." He reminded, causing his girlfriend's ears to perk up. She turned around in an instant and casually placed her arms around his neck.

"Oh Thurston darling you're right. She does think that about you my poor darling!"

"Lovey, just come with me and have a pleasant evening...you never know what might happen." Lovey was seething inside but decided to go forward to appease her Thurston.

"Alright darling." She agreed, pulling him in for another kiss.

"Mrs. Howell!" Ginger growled, pretending to be shocked. She smiled at this story, and had always known that Mrs. Howell had a flirty side too. Gilligan, on the other hand, blushed; he hadn't wanted to know that about his mother figure. Gilligan took a deep breath and reminded himself that she was a mother to him not a woman and could never have behaved like that. Ever.

" Oh Thurston, look it's a boat!"

"Oh, yes Lovey! It's Horace and... Oh how vulgar it's his southern belle!" Thurston uttered with disdain. Ginger giggled. He sounded almost like a self absorbed valley girl who'd just witnessed a horrible fashion faux pas... only whatever the male, eastern, upper crust version of that was...oh California...Ginger smiled.

"And there's Eunice, the poor dear!" Lovey was looking through her lorgnette and was shocked to see Blanche in the boat with Eunice and Horace! "Oh what scandal this would make!"

"Especially at the Harvard club you know!" Thurston added.

"Which one is Eunice?", asked Gilligan.

"The lady who is more respectable looking", replied Lovey. Although Blanche came from one of the wealthiest families in Texas, she acted in a way that was not very proper at times. She was 50, but liked to act like she was 20 it seemed.

"Look, it's Lovey and Thurston!", exclaimed Eunice so happy to see her friends.

"Oh yeah, it is! Thurston! It's me Horace!" Horace yelled. About a minute later they were docking the small coast guard boat.

"Hi y'all! Horace is so glad to see Thurston and Lovey again, but who are the rest of y'all?",asked Blanche

"Lovey darling, you're alive! I was so afraid you would perish!" Exclaimed Eunice.

"Horace, Eunice...Blanche..." Lovey began, faneing politeness to Blanche. "This is the Captain, his first mate Gilligan, the professor, Ginger Grant..."

"The movie star you know." Thurston reminded.

Ginger smiled flirtatiously, recalling that Mr. Howell had promised to pay for the production for a new movie for her upon their return to the mainland. Lovey rolled her eyes. She realized long ago that their flirtation was innocent and silly and was done partially to make her angry. Eunice, however, was concerned immediately.

"And this Mary Ann Summers. We were shipwrecked with them", explained Thurston

"Pleased to meet you all", said Eunice.

"We'd love to get you all off this island and there is plenty of rum for a smashing party", explained Horace. Eunice rolled her eyes; of course her ex-husband would want to drink immediately.

"Why don't we have a party here? I haven't talked to you in so long, Eunice and you must meet everybody", declared Lovey she took her friend's arm and began to walk in the direction of the Howell hut. Thurston and Horace began to follow. The four were falling back into an archaic pattern that only seemed natural.

"Horace you must tell me all about how things are at the polo matches, racetrack and of course the Stock Market", said Thurston happy to see his friend again.

"Wait!" Gilligan called. The four turned to face the young sailor. "You didn't finish the story."

"The story?" Eunice asked. "What story."

"Oh Eunice it's nothing." Lovey laughed, she didn't want her to know that they were about to talk about when they first met. The bad part when they first met. Thurston laughed.

"Oh Eunice, Lovey and I were just about to regale your first meeting."

"Our first meeting...you mean Lovey and I?" Eunice choked.

"Yes." Thurston laughed. "It's really almost an embarrassing story." Thurston began.

Gilligan could see everything around him get all blurry again and suddenly his eyes were transfixed on the scene of an old, elegant country club.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch 3- Okay night, but only if you promise!

Lovey was in the very least glad that the four of them were going down to _The Country Club_, as the prestigious institution was aptly named, in two separate cars. Thurston had brought along an extra set of bubbly champagne that evening, hoping the romantic setting in the back of the car would allow him and his girlfriend to have some special time together. But merely minutes into the ride he realized he would have no such luck. Lovey sat patiently with a sweet smile on her face, her hands folded properly in her lap. She gazed out the window occasionally and made no attempt to make conversation or gather him in her embrace as she had earlier in the afternoon. This met only one thing: Lovey was seething mad. Her anger was boiling like a tea-kettle ready to blow its lid off.

Eunice and Horace frequented _The Country Club_. Horace was used to his girlfriend talking a mile a minute but, tonight there was no ceasing to Eunice's complaining: and it was getting on his nerves. He laughed it off, usually finding Eunice's incessant worrying quite cute and decided to justify how irrational she was being. He liked Lovey Wentworth.

"Horace, how could you do this to me?" Eunice huffed, sharply raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"Eunice, I know that Mrs. Wentworth has been cruel to you, and your family, but I've met Lovey and she is actually very nice!"

"That can't be Horace! You must be teasing me!"

"No, she's very kind!"

"She could never be kind to me! Her mother thinks I am Irish scum!"

"Honey, let's just wait and see how tonight goes."

"Oh, alright I'll try to be on my best behavior," said Eunice rolling her eyes and wishing she didn't have to act like a proper young lady. All of those cruel things that Mrs. Wentworth had said were going through Eunice's mind: the woman was so...indignant, now that she thought of it. How could her daughter have a nickname like Lovey and be kind?

"Horace, does she know I am your girlfriend?"

"I don't think so. Maybe Thurston told her." He answered, seeming to completely disregard her concerns.

"Oh Horace, is she really a nice person, to everyone?" Eunice asked, he noted that she seemed pleading...desperate even.

"Well everyone in the Social Register, I think." He said this allusively on purpose...he enjoyed toying with her emotions a little bit.

"But that doesn't mean she'll be kind to me Her mother thinks that my ancestors were peasants and she treats my family as such!"

"It's that bad?" He rolled his blue-grey eyes. She sounded like she was having a panic attack.

"Yes!" She didn't think she could possibly convey this convincingly enough.

"Oh it is! I didn't realize it was that bad. Does gossip hurt that much?"

"Yes it does! And if we talk about this anymore I'll start to cry!" Eunice sounded as if she was starting to cry. She dabbed her eyes with her lace handkerchief.

"Thanks for clarifying the whole situation," said Horace, realizing that Eunice wasn't being that over dramatic and that Mrs. Wentworth's words really caused his girlfriend pain. Now he was beginning to worry about the dinner hour, which was fast approaching now.

As the car pulled up to The Country Club, Eunice's heart began to pound and her palms were suddenly drenched. She was not prepared to be insulted and humiliated by Lovey.

"Horace, I can't do this. I can't face her! I'm going to faint" Eunice was very pale.

"Oh Eunice honey, you'll live! Just do this for me ok?"

"Oh all right I'll do whatever you want, but I warn you if she insults me, I'm not letting her get away with it!"

"Just don't make too much of a scene."

"Oh Horace, I promise you I won't burn the place down." Eunice replied sarcastically as he encircled his arm around her lower back. Before Eunice knew it she was face to face with Thurston Howell and Miss Lovey Wentworth.

"Hello, I'm Eunice Smith. It's a pleasure to meet you." Eunice was trying to sound as genuine as possible. She smiled a fake sweet smile and extended her hand. Lovey shook it.

"A pleasure to meet you as well!" Lovey burst. Eunice was taken aback at how nice her supposed enemy was, or seemed to be. The men and the women gently parted ways as they were seated at their table.

"So are you enjoying your classes at Vassar? I've heard about it. I don't think it would be as good as Radcliffe though. Your instructors are female. We all have Harvard instructors here you know." Eunice said pridefully. Lovey would've said it was more like gloating.

"I really don't see why that is a problem. I enjoy having women professors. I think Vassar women have better minds. We don't need male professors." Lovey replied, fluttering her eyelashes gently but swiftly.

"Better minds, how dare you suggest such a thing. Radcliffe is associated with Harvard! How can woman possibly be good at teaching the sciences and more complex things like Psychology?"

"My Psychology professor, Dr. Hartley, is wonderful! She's the first woman to become a psychoanalyst. It's so fascinating! It is a shame that she will be leaving to set up private practice in Chicago. I shall miss her classes very much! Maybe someday I can do psychoanalysis",said Lovey.

"On who, your Mother?" Asked Eunice, immediately regretting she had said that, her blue eyes grew wide in amazement of herself…she was ashamed…she was proud too.

"Oh darling! Lovey laughed. "You talk but, a case like you?" Lovey continued to giggle sweetly. Thurston's ears perked up from across the table and he sensed trouble immediately.

"A case like me? Just what is that supposed to mean?" Eunice said angrily. Both women stood, Thurston knew now for sure that there was trouble afoot.

"Well dear," Lovey began, looking Eunice up and down as she circled her newfound acquaintance. "You do have a rather," Lovey laughed as she drew a breath, "...interesting social standing..." This was beginning to be funny for Lovey.

"Why , you're just as...as...as rude as your old prune of a mother!"

"Rude! No one's ever accused me of being rude in the whole of my life! Thurston I think I'm going to faint!" Lovey, placed the back of her palm over her forehead, feigning weakness and signaling Thurston to reach out and catch her as she fell ever so gracefully on to _The Country Club's_ harloquin marble-tile floor.

"I'll catch you Lovey!" He panicked.

"Horace I've never been so insulted in my entire life!" Eunice cried.

"You've never been so insulted? Thurston are you going to let this...this PEASANT girl talk to me like that?" Lovey was enraged.

"Peasant girl!" Eunice rolled her eyes. "I've had enough of that old tired rumor if we want to bring up social standing let's talk about your family!"

"Nonsense, the Wentworth's are flawless."

"Would you two shut the hell up!" Horace barked he couldn't stand it anymore.

"I beg your pardon!" Eunice and Lovey asked at once, both deeply offended by both his language and assertion. Other members of The Country Club glared at Horace and began to talk in scurried hushed whispers. Their voices faded back into the calm quiet that was the essence of _The Country Club_ as he began again.

"I've had enough of this! You two should actually have become fast friends! The rumors either way are ridiculous and don't have much of a bearing on who either of you really are."

"Well I may not know Lovey, which is the worst suited nickname for this rude young woman, but I know her mother is a rude, narrow minded bigot. Who hates my mother and I."

"...Now that you mention it..." Lovey became excited, "we do have something in common!"

'What?"

"My mother hates me too!" Lovey burst excitedly.

What?" Eunice spat...not that she ever spat but...

"Well, she and I have never really...never really...?"

"Clicked, Lovey my dear." Thurston finished.

"Oh yes clicked! That's it!"

Yes!" Thurston Howell added. "It really is the most interesting story." Thurston liked to tell stories...and even stories within stories.

"Oh really?" Eunice had thought that Mrs. Wentworth would've loved her daughter. Lovey seemed so much like her.

"Yes! Mother hates my independent streak! She hates that she can't marry me off isn't that marvelous!"

"Independent streak?"

"Yes. She keeps comparing me to Lysistrata!"

"Oh!" Eunice smiled with delight, fluttering her eyelashes now...she loved the Greeks immensely.

"Lysistrata, isn't that a mouthwash?" The waiter, Henry, asked excitedly.

"Oh you blithering idiot!" Horace was annoyed. "Just bring the wine list!

"Lovey you know what?" Thurston said, breaking back into the present day for a moment. "He looks just like Henry!" He indicated, pointing straight at Gilligan.

"Oh yes he does!" Lovey squealed. "He has the right voice and the right nose for sure!" The young sailor smiled at this. "Gilligan...do you by any chance have any relatives named Henry?"

"What was this place called again?"

"The Country Club."

"Not The Country Club dear, _The Country Club_." Thurston said more pointedly now, really turning on the snobbiest part of his accent.

"Oh yeah! That's my great Uncle Henry! He was the family moron!" Gilligan explained.

"I guess looks aren't the only thing he got from Uncle Henry." Thurston said very quietly as an aside to his wife. She laughed and hit him playfully. It may be true...but it wasn't a very nice thing to say about their poor Gilligan.

"Could you get back to the story Mr. Howell?" Mary Ann requested. Her bright brown eyes shone with anticipation at hearing the rest of the tale. She marveled at the kind of glamorous life they'd lived and longed to hear more about it...especially the parts that took place in the twenties...a fascinating era, when her own relatives had been making moonshine…not dancing at decadent country clubs and parties that could've easily rivaled anything F. Scott Fitzgerald could've ever conceived.

"Well..." Thurston began again. The castaways could practically see the scene around them fade back into the old, highbrow country club. Only now it was several hours later. The Howells and Eunice were having a good time, and of course...Horace was good and drunk by now.

"Plus Eunice darling you re in wonderful company..." Lovey gushed. "After all the Howells aren't good enough for the Wentworth's either."

"Even the Howells?" Eunice was surprised, she felt in especially good company.

"Yes its dastardly isn't it who ever heard of a Howell not being good enough I mean really!" Thurston was always insulted at the mere thought. He'd been kind of non-committal before. But this is how he knew he loved Lovey...he could tolerate this kind of disdain for the Howell name because of her.

"Oh my! Who does your mother approve of?"

"Well..." This was not going to be easy to explain.

"And how did you ever get together?" Horace had to ask...before he passed out cold on the table...again.

"Oh Horace, I do wish you would stop drinking." Eunice said, picking him up by his hair and letting him fall back on his face again.

Lovey was deeply troubled by this and flinched at the sound of Horace's head hitting the table. Other couples were dancing and they were just mulling through family histories. She wondered why Eunice was even with Horace and was now worried for her new friend.

"Tell me...what is he talking about? Why were you not together? You seem so...wonderful together." Eunice put this carefully.

"Oh, tell them Thurston!" Said Lovey smiling sweetly. "It's such a fascinating story!" She loved the story, and a request to hear it always made her happy no matter what else was going through her head.

"I'll drink to that." Horace mumbled raising his shot glass.

"Oh Lovey I don't really think it's all that fascinating. We were six." Thurston blushed.

"Fine, I'll tell it!" Lovey declared, waving him off.

"Oh you met when you were children, how darling! Horace and I did as well!" Eunice squealed, batting her eyelashes as she leaned across the table ever so slightly, wanting to hear every bit of Lovey's story.

"Lovey nobody wants to hear this!" Thurston quickly interjected.

Eunice raised her eyebrow ever so slightly and wondered why he wanted so badly to keep this story hidden. She heard Horace snicker slightly but try to slyly stifle his laugh with a cough. She laughed. He wasn't as drunk as he led them to believe. He was having a dull evening and was using his usually drunken state as an excuse. How rude! But she had to laugh...a little to herself. "Oh Thurston don't be so modest! He just doesn't want me to tell you the sweetest story..." Lovey explained.

"Lovey no!"

"But it's darling! And it's the reason I love you so much."

"Lovey I'm sure these people aren't interested in..."

"Sure we are." Horace, who already knew the story, volunteered, sitting back up and pouring himself some coffee. He was prepared to stay up all night, but only if the night promised that Thurston would be embarrassed.

"Oh do tell it Thurston!" Lovey urged, back in the present day as all the other castaways, the Douglas' and Blanche leaned forward in their seats.

"Yeah Mr. Howell, that was the part I really wanted to hear." Gilligan commented excitedly.

The castaways were curious to hear a childhood story that would embarrass the Wolf of Wall Street and make him fall in love with a girl...not because they sought to victimize him or anything, but because they knew that deep down inside he was not too dissimilar from his teddy bear, Teddy, that he had a pure, warm heart...they liked it when Mr. Howell slipped and displayed his very human side and it was always Lovey that made him do it...

"Well..." Thurston hesitated. "I don't know Lovey is it really that important? Say this is a rousing story! What if I told about the time we rigged the..."

"Thurston!" Lovey gasped. She didn't want anyone to know that Thurston had once rigged the World Series it was so disgraceful!

"The time you and I got drunk and rigged the World Series!" Horace offered, he could go for hearing that again...and Blanche would be impressed that was for sure.

"Horace!" Eunice was disgusted. That incident had been the straw that broke the camel's back for their relationship, and had taught their son Oliver the dangers of bartering...the reason he had such trouble with that Haney character... It would be painful for her to hear that again.

"You rigged a World Series?" The Skipper barked. He had trouble believing this. The Professor was skeptical as well...given the laws of motion and the rules of the game he didn't think this was physically possible.

"Skinny Mulligan and I rigged a World Series once!" Gilligan burst happily. He was sure his tale of 10 year old boy's rigging the game was much more phenomenal than the idea of drunken millionaires doing so.

"Shut up Gilligan." The Skipper said, noting the ridiculousness of his notion, "You were saying Mr. Howell..."

"Saying?" He asked.

"About when we met Thurston." Lovey said matter of factly.

"Yeah, I'd like to hear too!" Blanche said as she looked at herself in her compact mirror. Eunice rolled her eyes. She'd like to trade the mirror for a book and see how she faired. Maybe she'd ask this Professor fellow to help her with that later on... Maybe the Professor could transform Blanche, like Professor Higgins did Eliza Doolittle. Oh the joy of being an English major, thought Eunice.

To Lovey, Blanche's voice carried with it, a tone of audaciousness too great for even someone on the Social Register. Ginger Grant also cringed...being originally from the south...she knew that kind of woman...all too well...that couldn't be a friend of the Howells? What was she even doing with Horace? As for her money, and being from the south...she'd certainly not be accepted with the Ewings of Dallas, a prominent oil family she knew of...that was for sure… "Horace, I think now would be a good time for you to see my golf clubs." Thurston said as he got up and headed for the Howell's private island country club.

"But Thurston," Horace laughed, "you were in the middle of telling us a story, and I think it seemed like it was going to be a good one too."

"Horace he wasn't telling us a story...he was avoiding telling us." Lovey added.

"Come on Horace, come golf with me...I'll make you a drink." Thurston decided to give him an offer he knew he couldn't refuse.

"A drink...fine with me." Horace agreed getting up to follow his friend. His ex-wife sighed, more like groaned and allowed her face to fall into her hands, wishing that Thurston hadn't offered his friend a drink, as the castaways, particularly Mary Ann and the Professor looked on worriedly.

"It seems like old times." Lovey remarked as she pat Eunice on the back consolingly. "Oh I said something wrong didn't I?" Eunice smiled anyway, she always adored Lovey's ditziness...it was endearing.

"Shu listen!" The Professor said harshly, causing all conversation to come to a stop. Horace and Thurston turned around.

"Drums!" Mary Ann knew what that met.

"Yes...if I remember correctly. That's a kind of drum only used for..."

"Headhunters." The castaways said all at once, their eyes growing wide. Eunice simply fainted. Blanche ran into the jungle and from the sound of it, lost her lunch.

"Hey that's what you did the day you met Lovey!" Horace laughed, pointing at his friend. Thurston gave him a sharp look as they all turned their attention back to the distant drums of war.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- It's the story, of a Lovey lady...

Eunice was completely horrified by what happened next. As soon as everyone was revived from the shock of the coming headhunters, the castaways and their high-brow guests quickly made their way through the jungle and up the mountain to their secret hiding place- a secluded cave they always went to every time native headhunters arrived on the island.

Eunice kept losing her breath and almost her shoes as she was pulled along through the rocks, snakes, mud and other desperate terrain. She was most afraid for their arrival at the cave...a Douglas in a cave?! She'd rather be back sleeping in Oliver's barn, or even riding in Mr. Haney's truck, that was for sure. A cave was so dark and damp and chilly and it might even have bats! How dreadful! She couldn't understand how Lovey and Thurston had been able to live on an island where every so often their life was threatened by headhunters. Why wasn't Lovey screaming with fear? Eunice wanted to scream, but she was so terrified.

Once they were settled in the cave, Eunice was surprised to find that it was warm and cozy; the seven had obviously spent a good deal of time there. The cave's entrance was covered with thick brush. She had watched as all the castaways, even Thurston and Lovey took great care to cover their tracks as they rushed along and now did the same in re-covering the cave's entrance so it would look uninhabited. The cave was dark but not cold, not crawling with creatures as she'd assumed it would be. It had furniture: a little table, little cots, some spare blankets (Gilligan would later explain that some of these extra items, like blankets, were among items that washed ashore every once in awhile and contributed greatly to their standard of living...which, as far as Eunice could tell, was below third world in some ways.

She and Lovey sat down together at the table along with Ginger and Mary Ann...oh how she wished they'd left Blanche for the headhunters! But, what good would it do? If they were any good as headhunters, they wouldn't want her anyway, what with her wild hair and beady little eyes...they looked like little pieces of coal to Eunice, dark and foreboding with no sparkle. Oh how she hated that southern belle who thought she was so special because her father was an oil millionaire who had recently became a member of the House of Representatives.

"I know what would make us feel better. Let's sing about our favorite things!", said Blanche.

Eunice rolled her eyes.

"Now is not a time to sing about our favorite things! I'm not your singing governess and our captain here is hardly Captain Von Trapp."

"Who?" Asked Skipper.

"He was an Austrian Naval Captain. His family's story was made into a delightful musical." Lovey gushed.

"It's a movie now!" Exclaimed Blanche.

"Oh" Skipper was not interested at all.

"I know what will make us feel better, a story, right Thurston!" Lovey smiled.

Thurston turned to look at her from his place helping the other men secure the entrance to the cave. In addition to the hidden brush, they'd tunneled themselves as deep into the cave as they possibly could and built as secure wooden door as possible. It was heavy, had an impressively sophisticated lock on it and took at least three to close it. It reminded Horace of a medieval castle's moat door.

"Lovey. I don't want you bullying me into telling that story. I'm not a..."

"Ninny?" Horace asked. He, Lovey and even Eunice then exchanged a laugh.

"A ninny! No one calls a Howell that!" Howell almost screamed but before he could finish, the Professor briskly clasped a hand over the millionaire's mouth.

"Mr. Howell, be a little more quiet, the echo in here might carry, you know."

"Yeah and then the headhunters will hear ya!" Gilligan added cheerfully, then realizing he'd just said eight words too many and accidentally refocused everyone's attention on their current peril when they were supposed to try and relax.

"Anyway Thurston, the story!"

"Lovey no!" Thurston managed to yell and whisper at the same time. He did not want to be scolded by the professor a second time...not in front of his friends anyway.

"Pretty please Thurston, we all need something to refocus our attention on. Look at poor Gilligan! The boy is positively petrified!"

"I am?!"

"Yes, you're shaking!"

"I am!?" At this Gilligan started actually shaking. He hadn't been but his mind ran with Mrs. Howell's psychological suggestion. Eunice laughed. She loved how Lovey liked to play with psychology.

"Please Thurston, it'll calm the poor boy." She baby talked. "And the girls you're scared, aren't you girls?" She asked Ginger and Mary Ann. The girls smiled slightly noting Mrs. Howell's cue.

"Yeah, we're scared, real scared Mr. Howell." Ginger added.

"Please a story I think it would really cheer us up!" Mary Ann plead.

"Alright...fine then for the girls." Mr. Howell grumbled. Lovey gave everyone else a satisfied smile she was glad her husband couldn't actually see.

"Picture it..." Howell decided to be dramatic, "Newport, nineteen..."

"Oh Thurston don't say the year!" Lovey was alarmed for a moment; she didn't really want to give away her age! How improper that would be! A woman never reveals her age!

"Fine then." He coughed. "Picture it, Newport when Lovey and I were six."

Little Thurston Howell III was not much for parties. He liked socializing well enough but, he preferred to stay inside with the comforts of home: his father's ticker-tape machine, his toy polo pony and of course...Teddy. Teddy had been his favorite gift from his Mother and Father, sent back to comfort him when they went on Safari back when he was two and he was left with his Nanny, Nanny.

Thurston who had been nicknamed the wolf of Wall Street by his father at a young age, because of his early love of money, was quite different from other children of his class. Even though his Nanny was the most proximate caregiver in his world, he was closer to his Mother and Father and didn't especially care for Nanny. She was kind of mean when you got right down to it. Thurston didn't realize that the reason for this was because he was a proud stubborn little boy and was hard to manage.

Today, Nanny was insisting that he go out to the big party being held on their lawn. It was _the _social event of the year and the cream of society...and their children would be present. Thurston was dressed in his finest Brooks Brothers suit and refused to go outside because of the one caveat Nanny had put on the day:

"Put down the Teddy Bear, before you go outside Thurston!"

Put down teddy? Really? He couldn't and wouldn't do that and he never did really. To part with Teddy was utter madness! Little did Thurston know that his Nanny's ridiculous request had come at the behest of his mother and father, who had thought it was time for their son to grow up and give up the bear, after all, boarding school was not far off, but Thurston wasn't fully aware of that just yet. There was no way Teddy could go to boarding school.

"Thurston, it's time to put down the bear and go outside." Nanny spoke with kindness yet firmness, but in Thurston's eyes it was a very cruel request.

"No!" He thundered, sounding very much like a future wolf of Wall Street. He was on the verge of tears.

"Thurston, your mother and father believe that at your age, you shouldn't spend so much time with your Teddy bear. I'm only telling you what they told me to say."

"But he's my only friend," Thurston pouted. Nanny was a cruel woman and he could not believe this could be the request of his handsome father or his Lovely mother...they were Howells, after all.

"What about the other boys and girls your age? Aren't they your friends too?"

"Not like Teddy!" Thurston exclaimed defensively.

Without another word, Nanny pushed him outside, without his Teddy bear and locked the great big French doors, prohibiting the young boy's re-entry onto the sun porch. She placed the bear on top of the bookshelf so that he glanced directly into young Thurston's eyes, almost teasing him, beckoning him to challenge authority and come to rescue him. Thurston tugged hard at the golden doorknobs, not understanding how they didn't bust open but the strength of his willpower alone.

If you'd been there, you would've found it funny how no one noticed this little boy struggle pointlessly with the door, particularly given that it was his house and his parent's party...nobody except for the last little girl on earth who should've paid any mind to him...little Lovey Wentworth.

Lovey, a cute little blonde girl with short hair and deep blue eyes looked on sweetly as Thurston did battle with the door. 'What a silly Boy!' She thought to herself.

"Thurston." She exclaimed.

"Huh? Did somebody say my name?"

"It's me, Lovey!"

"Huh? Ew, yuck you said love!" Six-year-old Thurston was momentarily distracted by her having said love. It was so...gross. There was just no way around it for him, being six and disgusted by mushy stuff he had to point it out.

"I said no such thing, my name is Lovey! Love-eee!" She clarified.

"Oh yeah." Thurston gulped.

He was speechless for a moment and had no clue what had come over him...there was something about this girl that, well made him smile, made him happy, rather than revolted him...he didn't understand how...or why but he thought it had something to do with those eyes...they were so deeply blue.

"He's cute you know."

"Huh?!" Thurston said a third time. He felt like an idiot, being both ecstatic and horrified that she might've been attempting to indicate that _he_ was cute.

"You're Teddy Bear." She stressed.

"Oh, yeah, he's my friend. But Nanny locked him up."

"I hate my Nanny." Lovey whispered, crossing her arms defiantly and giving a proud snobbish huff.

"Me too, she's a horrible woman, she took Teddy away!"

"No, what scandal, I'm sure all the other bears are talking about it too!" Lovey was shocked. "What are you going to do?" She asked. Surely he'd do something...if he were a man of quality.

"Well I..." He stammered, quickly collecting himself. "Well Thurston Howell III doesn't stand by and take no for an answer! If they won't give me what I want, I'll go out and get it myself." Lovey smiled to herself, she liked that in a young millionaire, determination Thurston paused for a moment, looking back through the glass windows into the piercing black eyes of his forlorn bear.

"Come on Lovey!" He grabbed her hand.

She was shocked by this for a moment, it was so improper! But it felt right, and she went with it. Little Lovey was able to keep up, running slightly behind her new friend as he made his way around his mansion, all the way to the front courtyard. Lovey noted that it didn't take nearly as long to get to his front door as it would have to hers: her home was much larger. Nonetheless she was still tired when they arrived out front and wanted to pause for a rest, but Thurston insisted they keep going.

He was worried they'd be caught trying to get back inside and so, clinging to his new friend's hand, he scurried past their butler, and dozens of caterers and servants who he didn't know and had been hired just for the day.

"Be on the lookout for my Nanny." Thurston reminded.

"What does she look like?" Lovey enquired. Although it seemed to Lovey that all nannies looked the same.

"She looks mean!" Thurston replied, for that's what he thought.

Lovey made a note to be on the lookout for any mean looking ladies. Her nanny looked like Mary Poppins, but in Lovey's opinion, she was far from practically perfect. She loved the Mary Poppins books and had wished that she was real. Unfortunately, there were a lot of mean looking ladies at this party, so it was kind of hard to tell who was who. Her own mother, for example, was a mean looking lady. And there was Mrs. Vanderkellen, who everyone called the ice queen. She was beautiful and blonde, but her eyes were sinister. Lovey noted that they always narrowed in a very sharp and exacting way when they turned her direction. Lovey knew though the difference between a wealthy woman and a nanny. Often, there was a sharp difference...and often, the wealthy women were sweeter, an ironic twist of fate. Little Lovey had no idea, that this was simply because they were usually drunk.

Little Lovey and Thurston were in such a hurry as they scurried around the mansion that they did not notice the butler that was carrying a tray of champagne and caviar. Little Lovey almost knocked over the butler, who nearly lost his balance. He spun around on his tiptoes finally landing on his heels with a tap. Years later, Thurston would look back and remember this butler as the one who could dance like Michael Jackson.

"Quick, Lovey get in!"

"Get in! What, Thurston it's a closet!" She nearly shrieked.

Thurston closed the hall closet door quickly and ducked down to peek under the door as he watched his nanny, Nanny walked by. He never thought he'd be so thankful for a closet.

"Thurston, can't we go out, it's so stuffy in here, and I'm al-al al-achooo! Allergic to dust." Lovey sniffled. Besides, a Wentworth in a closet with a young boy she just met! It seemed like such an uncouth occurrence...she'd never live it down if anyone found out.

Lovey slowly opened the closet and poked her head out into the hall, ensuring the coast was clear, she and Thurston dashed across the hall and into the most dangerous place in the house: the kitchen. It was a place Thurston had never been before. He was amazed by the size and the hat of the French Chef that he didn't look where he was going. He knocked over an hor d'oeuvres tray sitting on a table.

"What are you doing in here? Get out!", the angry chef declared. Thurston and Lovey began to run up the backstairs, trying to figure out how to rescue Teddy.

Lovey was shocked. She was well acquainted with kitchens, and often went in her own to beg the cook to give her chocolate, which he almost always did.

"I knew there was a good reason I never went in there!" Thurston was frightened. He wanted to hold his Teddy Bear close to his heart and forget about all the pain, but first he had to find him and rescue him. He felt responsible for him. Maybe this was what his father had tried to discuss with him yesterday, becoming a young man, instead of a helpless little boy.

"Oh I always go in kitchens." Lovey said. He shot her a shocked glance. "Oh but never to cook you know!"

"I'm a great cook." He chuckled. "When I have a chef working for me!"

"Oh that's terribly witty!" She squealed. She admired boys with wit like that.

Thurston heard footsteps walk past them, and peering out into yet another hallway, he suddenly knew that the coast was clear.

"Come on Lovey! Back down to the sitting room, we haven't a moment to lose!" Thurston dashed out into the hall, leaving his new friend behind.

She sighed. Something had, within the last few minutes, changed within little Lovey's heart...well maybe not changed. She just admitted it to herself.

"I'm going to marry that boy!" She whispered to herself, and began to follow him down the mansion's set of back stairs.

There he was. Sitting on the coffee table in the sitting room. To Thurston, he looked more like a million bars of gold than a worn out old bear whose eye was about to fall off, and hung precariously from his face by a single brown thread, which he had angrily told his nanny was actually a vein.

"Lovey, look there he is!"

"Oh, he's such a handsome bear."

"Huh?" Thurston asked weakly, handsome wasn't a word he would use to describe Teddy.

"Well look at him, he's a beautiful bear, brave, with a charming physique!" The bear heard Lovey's words and stuck out his chest, feeling proud and brave...but not handsome, or at least that's how Thurston took the rest of her commentary. In fact, he was kind of confused. They may have both been six, but he wasn't nearly as advanced, as she was when it came to the eloquence of conversation. Whatever was a charming physique? It sounded like a compliment. Whatever it was...he hoped it wasn't directed at him. Little Thurston's analyst had warned him that sometimes people would comment about something in a kind of subtle way and actually be projecting the comment onto you or themselves...and he'd been worried about this with Lovey the whole half hour he'd known her.

Thurston and Lovey looked at each other with huge eyes when they heard the "clunk, clunk, clunk" of large shoes coming into the room. Thurston recognized them instantly as his nanny's footsteps. The pair darted under a chaise across from where the bear sat perched, looking down into their little eyes, taunting them as if to remind them that they were just inches away from success but may've now failed at their brave task. Thurston gulped. He did not much want to be caught. Lovey, on the other-hand, was mortified. What would her mother say if she was found under a chaise with a strange boy, and a boy from a family like the Howell's...Howell money just wasn't Wentworth money, and that's all there was to it.

Thurston looked up at his nanny, relieved that she had no idea he was even present. She was carrying the family cat: an orange-striped old cat named Chester Withington the III who had a big pink nose and a grouchy disposition. Withington, you see, thought that the family fortune was his own, and liked to lounge about the grounds as though he'd been the one who had generated their wealth in his younger days and now deserved to bask shamelessly within the estate's placious spaces. Nanny was doing nothing more than putting the cat outside so that he too could attend the party, of which he thought he was the host.

Thurston didn't notice Lovey's eyes bug out when she saw the cat.

'Oh no!' She thought. 'I'm going to give us away!' Lovey had dreadful cat allergies. She was sure she'd sneeze and give them away. Lovey tried everything she knew to not sneeze. She held her nose shut, held her breath, and as her analyst had suggested...tried not to think about it, but none of it helped.

"Achoo!" She was so dreadfully embarrassed. On top of the not getting caught thing, it was so terribly unlady-like!

Thurston shot her an evil glare and she could tell he was upset. Nanny froze in her spot in between the bear and the chaise they were under. Thurston could've reached out and grabbed her ankles she was so close to them. He held a single finger up to his lips motioning for her to be quiet. she did the same and nodded, understanding his meaning in an apologetic sense. the cat was outside by this time and the danger of sneezing had subsided for little Lovey.

"Did I hear something?" Nanny asked herself aloud. She was suspicious, so she pulled up a chair, which Thurston noticed, was facing the hallway and not the back door and begun to work on her needlepoint.

Thurston swiftly pulled Lovey out from the chaise and grabbed the bear. She did her best to follow her new friend closely in every move that he made, realizing that he had a very specific plan to sneak past his Nanny. The two crawled out the back door, which had been left ajar very slightly.

Lovey took a deep breath when they got back out into the garden. She loved the smell of roses and a-a- "achoo!"

"Cats again?" Thurston asked.

"Yes, sorry Thurston! And look, you got him out, you're my hero!" She said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"H-h-hero?" Thurston asked nervously. A girl thought he was a hero? And she'd...kissed him! Ew! Yuck! Disgusting! This all made Thurston feel...queasy...he couldn't hold back, he felt like he was going to...oh no! And without a word, Thurston Howell III threw up all over the rose bushes.

The seven castaways, back in the present day, turned back to look at Horace Douglas who was laughing so hard he'd turned a bright shade of rose red. Lovey thought he was almost the exact shade of roses that Thurston had lost his lunch on actually.

"Well I think it's a cute story!" Ginger defended.

"Yeah but...he threw up when he got his first kiss, I mean come on!" Blanche also thought it was hysterical. None of the several men she had been with had something as foolish as that!

Thurston pouted. The tawdry woman's teasing made him feel somehow less of a man, something that was awfully difficult for a Harvard man to take.

"Awe it's alright Thurston." Lovey soothed, taking his chin in her hand and turning his head to kiss his lips.

"See, he didn't throw up that time!" Gilligan reminded. "Ew, yuck kisses." He said more to himself, he didn't like watching people kiss all that much.

"Well whatever, now I've told you, that's how I fell in love, with Lovey."

"Awe!" They all, minus Horace and Blanche, uttered at once.

Thurston still didn't think it was a cute story, or at least, didn't think it was cute unless he was alone with Lovey, as that was the only time he'd ever admit that he agreed it was cute.

"Shu stop!" The Professor warned sternly, holding out his right hand to get everyone's attention. The castaways gasped and listened to the noise outside the cave. It was the close, rumbling and banging sound of a headhunter's drums!

Lovey felt chilled to her soul and snuggled up closer to her husband. Eunice felt the same and wished she had someone to snuggle up to. She subconsciously moved a little to her left and realized she was now sitting with the Skipper...she guessed it was better than no body at a time like this, and certainly preferable to Horace!

The Professor placed his index finger up to his lips to indicate that it was absolutely necessary that they all maintain the utmost silence so as not to give themselves away.

"A-a-achoo!" Lovey sneezed.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5- And The Beat Goes On

Mary Ann held a breath. She knew that one wrong move by any of them would land them captive by the savages outside. She was so scared that she thought her heart wasn't even beating anymore let alone pounding. Eunice thought she'd faint, she always fainted and wished she had a man to comfort her. She needed somebody to cling to. Ginger was scared but quietly baffled by the idea that there was a group of men outside whom she could not seduce to get what she wanted from them...that even worked on Gilligan the majority of the time.

Thurston and Horace were thinking the same thing as Ginger, only they were considering another vice: money. These men didn't appreciate the value of a dollar!...Or even a peso? Just a head! How utterly uncivilized! Blanche was clinging to Horace terrified for her life. She couldn't stop nervously twisting the faux mink she was wearing, which Lovey had been quietly scoffing at for the past half hour, in her hands. She had lived a very comfortable life and had never experienced anything quite like this. Part of her wished "Daddy" was here with his gun and cowboy hat and boots. He bore a striking resemblance to Yosemite Sam, was charming,hospitable, but yet bigoted.

The Skipper, on the other hand, wished that he had not left his gun, hat and cowboy boots back in Hawaii. He loved Westerns and if he ever pursued his dream career in acting he'd want to be the next John Wayne. He had a tough guy persona, but was as scared as everyone else. The Professor, on the other hand, thought something was amiss. It was the drumming. It didn't sound like the real drumming of a local native tribe. Could they be impostors? The drumming reminded him more of a type of drumming you might hear in secluded Eastern European towns...which was an entirely different kind of drumming altogether. Could these drummers be from behind the Iron Curtain,spies perhaps? He thought so, but wasn't going to say anything to anyone else until they were out of the threat of danger...he didn't want to get their hopes up...or scare them half to death in a whole different way that might be unnecessary, so he kept quiet. The drums kept on getting closer and closer. Everyone's hearts were pounding. If they got any louder, the group might have been able to start their own drumming session.

Gilligan thought his heart no longer kept rhythm of it's own and marched to the beat of the drumming outside of the cave. Lovey, Blanche and Eunice were about to faint. The husbands were scared, but would never show it for fear that someone would find out and they'd be cast out of the Harvard Club. Bravery, you see, was a special requirement of gentlemen who belonged to the Harvard Club...even if it only entailed paying someone else to be brave for them.

Gilligan was terrified as usual,shaking as he had been really couldn't foresee his head featured in a headhunter home somewhere, being of the opinion that his nose was far too unappealing to earn an honored spot atop a mantlepiece. Thurston Howell, on the other hand, thought his head was perfect for such an arrangement and that any Native hooligan family would be lucky to have their hearth blessed with the adornment of the Howell nose. It would be great feng shui as they say.

Above all none of them were ready to say their goodbyes, either to planet Earth or even their little island: and especially not their heads. Gilligan, in nervous anticipation of being caught then hunted down, wandered alone to the back of the cave. It was there that they'd stored things they'd found, wanted to keep safe and dry or just didn't need and he'd forgotten what was there.

"Hey Skip..." Gilligan almost yelled, but quieted himself, covering his mouth quickly. Instead, he jumped up and down to release his excitement. There were firecrackers in the cave! Perhaps they could be used to fool the savages into thinking they were Gods of some type! It had worked a few times before and it was fun too! Gilligan was eager to do this once again. He grabbed as many as he could and ran to the front of the cave to try to get the Professor to understand his plan.

"Professor!",Gilligan loudly whispered.

"Gilligan, you must be very quiet", whispered the Professor, "you don't want to give us away!"

Gilligan showed him what he had found, waving the firecrackers and the loin cloth they'd made from the last time natives had visited. Eunice thought she'd faint: a loin cloth! How vulgar. How did Lovey live with these people! She was thinking, eyeing the loin cloth, that she'd rather be in Hooterville, upon further consideration, Eunice tried desperately to not picture any Hooterville resident in a loin cloth: especially Joe Carson. What a horrid picture! At least Gilligan was young, and thin...although that didn't change the inappropriateness of it all. Ginger, on the other hand, was secretly jealous that she was not the one who'd get to prance around in the loin cloth...oh how she missed Santa Monica at this time of year...but she chose to keep that point all to herself.

Gilligan went back to the back of the cave, changed his clothes, and climbed out the secret hatch into the open. His heart was pounding in his ears...but he knew this was the only chance they had. They couldn't' survive in the cave forever and knew the headhunters weren't just going to go away. He took a deep breath and climbed high up into the nearest tree, attempting to look out on the island as far as he could see. There were no headhunters anywhere it seemed...no drumming, no smoke...just all the familiar surroundings and sounds: birds, trees, the gentle lapping of the ocean as the waves rose and crashed back onto the beach, the ship that read U.S.S.R...U.S.S.R! Gilligan knew, only from experience and not from intelligence, that there were no headhunters at all: just Russians.

"Skipper, Professor, Skippppeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrr!" Gilligan yelled, rushing back to the cave.

"Gilligan what is it!?" The Professor asked.

"Yeah little buddy, what's the matter!?" Skipper inquired as everyone came rushing to his aid as he slipped back into the back entrance of the cave.

"They aren't Headhunters at all!" Gilligan gasped, proud that he was able to get this out for once instead of stuttering out some message that made no sense.

"Oh really Gilligan, am I supposed to believe they're leg hunters for goodness..."

"No, no really Skipper, honest. They're Soviets."

"Soviets!" Everyone gasped.

"Communists!" Horace barked.

"How vulgar!" Thurston finished his friend's sentence.

"Are they really?" The Professor asked, smiling to himself, he was highly satisfied with his deductive abilities in this moment.

The group arrived back at their campground to find four Soviet spies, dressed as headhunters, eating the meal Mary Ann had made prior to their leaving home. All of the castaways, Eunice and the Douglas's looked on in horror at the scene before them, which brought thoughts of ancient vomitoriums to Eunice's mind. Mary Ann was about to become indignant over this: did they have any idea how much work it was too cook on an island, and for so many people?! Even the Skipper alone would be difficult to...Mary Ann was taken out of her thoughts when one of the spies stood up and pointed straight at her.

"There they are!" One of them shouted.

"Yes, they're back."

"Is this truly them?"

"Yes and everything will go according to plan!" One said and then began to laugh . Ginger noted he was a spy they'd seen before...the one who looked just like Gilllgan!

"I'm sorry, what are you planning to do with us?" Eunice questioned,mustering up the courage to speak.

"Capitalists! Exploit them!" One called, causing the rest to draw their pistols.


End file.
